


Consolation Prize

by Heavyheadedgal



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluffy Smut, Logie-inspired silliness, PWP, Post Season 3, awards ceremony, oops! fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6786985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavyheadedgal/pseuds/Heavyheadedgal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Phryne, for her part, was enjoying herself immensely. She had her quarry cornered, she was a shoe-in for the award, and Jack looked delectable in black tie. </em>
</p><p>Will Phryne win Most Admirable Woman of the Year? Will their suspect try to run? Will Phryne ever get Jack out of that tuxedo? A bit of fluffy smut inspired by the Logie shenanigans (check out Tumblr if you missed it).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consolation Prize

**Author's Note:**

> I've been really struggling to write anything the last two weeks; turns out Nathan Page and Essie Davies fooling around at the Logies was great inspiration.

Jack swallowed the dregs of his wine. It was his...fourth? Fifth glass? He was trying to alternate with water but he was starting to feel it. Weren’t they supposed to serve food at these things? His head felt a bit fuzzy. That could be, of course, because Phryne was practically sitting in his lap.

He was officially attending the Melbourne Women’s Association annual awards gala as Phryne’s escort. Unofficially, they were tailing a killer. Blackmail was a dirty business; one that had gotten Miss Helen Myers killed. The private secretary to a wealthy shipping magnate, Miss Myers had intimate knowledge of the business dealings of several prominent citizens, and had used it to her advantage. Unfortunately, she had finally picked the wrong target in Mrs. Charles Grantwicke, who happened to be the MWA president.

The fact that Miss Fisher had also been nominated Most Admirable Woman of the Year by the MWA was, as she put it, a “delightful bonus.” Jack was keenly aware that it was also their first public appearance as a romantic couple.

“Having fun, Inspector?” Phryne asked. There was a gleam in her eye that made the room feel warmer. Or maybe it was the wine.

“Of course,” Jack replied, keeping his hands to himself and his eyes firmly fixed on her face. Phryne was dressed to kill, as usual. She wore black silk, with a plunging neckline that showed off her graceful shoulders. There also seemed to be feathers of some kind involved, around the hem. There were usually feathers, where Phryne was concerned. This thought brought rather vivid feather-related memories to mind. He tried to distract himself by pouring another glass of wine.

Phryne, for her part, was enjoying herself immensely. She had her quarry cornered, she was a shoe-in for the award, and Jack looked delectable in black tie. She snuggled closer. Things were still very new between them; since her return from England they had taken things one step at a time. There had been several bouts of passionate kissing, and even some heavy petting, after late-night stake-outs. But Phryne was growing tired of Jack’s gentlemanly pace and had decided to take matters into her own hands, so to speak, should the opportunity present itself in the course of the evening.

“You know, Jack,” she murmured, leaning against his shoulder. “I didn’t just bring you here to work. I want you to enjoy yourself.” She was encouraged to feel his arm slipping around her shoulder.

“And I intend to, Miss Fisher,” he replied. “I just want to keep an eye on our suspect.” The woman in question sat two tables away, occasionally darting nervous glances in their direction.

“She can’t escape, Jack. She has to present my award.”

 _“Your_ award? You haven’t won yet,” he pointed out sensibly. He was determined to resist gazing at her décolletage. He had pondered all week about this evening, if it meant that she was ready to take their relationship in a more intimate direction, or if she simply wanted him along to slap handcuffs on her suspect. The answer, he was beginning to realize, was both.

“Ye of little faith,” she said, then grabbed his face and planted a deep kiss on him.

“Miss Fisher! Inspector! This way!” There was a loud pop, and Jack was momentarily blinded by the sodium blaze of a flashbulb. He had a mouth full of Phryne’s hair, and her hands still held his jaw. She dropped her mouth in a perfect O of feigned surprise, mugging for the newspaper photographer.

“Phryne...” he groaned.

“Better save tomorrow’s society column for your scrapbook, Jack!” She winked at him. “Mrs. Grantwicke was starting to watch us a little too closely. Now she knows I’m only here to make a scene and show off my new lover, as usual.”  

“You’re incorrigible,” he sighed.

“Don’t you forget it,” she agreed.

The photographer scurried away as the room hushed for the presentation of the next award.

Mrs. Grantwicke stood on the stage, and read the names of the nominees.

“This year’s Most Admirable Woman is...Miss Rachel Turner!”

“Oh!” said Phryne. Then she began clapping enthusiastically. “Brava!” she cried. When Miss Turner returned from the stage, Phryne rose and kissed her on the cheek, congratulating her.

“I must say, Miss Fisher, you’re taking your loss very well.”

“Well, Rachel does do excellent work promoting women’s education. But don’t be deceived, Jack,” Phryne sighed dramatically. “These speeches will drone on for at least another 40 minutes. I think you should console me in the meantime. Meet me by the service entrance in 5 minutes?” She grabbed her beaded evening bag and headed for the ladies powder room.

Five minutes later, Jack obediently waited for her at the end of a narrow, deserted hallway. There were several doors which led, presumably, to storage spaces. The noise of the crowd was muffled at this distance.

“You do look quite the gentleman in that get-up, Jack,” Phryne said, appearing from around the corner. She stepped closer and took his hand in hers. “Though I wouldn’t object if you decided to be a little... _less_ gentlemanly, tonight.” She put his hand on her breast, and Jack realized she wasn’t wearing any undergarments. He felt the heat of her body radiating through the thin layer of black silk. His head swam with the smell of her perfume and the taste of wine. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, like he had that day on the airfield.

She dragged on his lapels as they stumbled through the nearest door. The room was dark, full of empty tables, and chairs stacked against a wall. He pressed her against the door and traced the curve of her ear with his mouth as she flipped the latch, locking the door. The tiny sound brought him back to his senses momentarily and he looked at her. Her face was flushed and her lipstick was smeared – it must be all over him as well. He tried to think if she had ever looked so dishevelled before.

“Jack, you’re thinking. Stop it.” She kissed him, sliding her tongue against his, and was rewarded by a rather desperate groan from him. Excellent. She was looking forward to discovering how many different sounds she could elicit from her quiet inspector. She went to work on his tie, which was quickly flung into oblivion, then the buttons of his shirt. Something inside him seemed to have released and his hands were gripping her waist, then sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. The room was cool but his hands were warm where he touched her, tracing the line of her neck, pressing her breast so her hard nipple nestled in the center of his palm.

She was pushing him backwards, guiding him as they shuffled towards the nearest table. His jacket had disappeared, somehow. He had been too preoccupied tasting the skin of her shoulder to notice. The strong muscles of her back shifted under his hands.

He felt the sudden sharp edge of the table against his backside, and Phryne’s quick fingers on his trouser front. “Wait,” he said, removing her hands and grabbing her hips. He turned and lifted her up, depositing her on the table.

Phryne laughed with delight, wrapping her legs around him. He shrugged out of his suspenders and she bit her lip, watching the roll of his shoulders. So many nights he had walked out of her house and left her aching, as she was now, a sweet pain that had her gasping. She pulled him out of his trousers as he slid his hands up her bare thighs, exploring her wetness with his fingers, her throat with his mouth. He grasped her buttocks and sank into her, deeply and fully, and Phryne clenched her teeth to keep from crying out.

She clutched his hair and buried her face in his shoulder; he whispered her name in her ear as he fucked her steadily, the hard pressure of his cock dragging against the swollen flesh at her entrance with every thrust. The pleasure was excruciating and she couldn’t stifle a panting curse as her climax overwhelmed her. Her hips bucked and brought him to his own release, swearing like a sailor and pushing deep inside her.

They remained still for a moment, breathing heavily. Phryne coaxed his head up from where it rested against her neck and kissed his mouth gently.

His eyes searched hers, pensively. “Phryne, I’m s—“

“Don’t you dare apologize, Jack Robinson. That was perfect.” She stroked his face tenderly.

He smiled, then, somewhat sheepishly. His hair hung in his eyes. She resisted the impulse to divest him of his clothes entirely and have her way with him on the floor.

“It’s just...this is not how I imagined making love to you.”

“Oh Jack,” Phryne smiled fondly at him. “That wasn’t lovemaking.”

Jack blinked. “The trousers currently around my ankles tell a different story.”

She laughed. “My darling Inspector,” she said, smoothing his hair back. “That was just the good hard fuck we’ve needed since the day we met.” He laughed with her then, a bright easy laugh she hadn’t heard nearly often enough.  

She kissed him softly, then slid off the table and adjusted her dress. “Now,” she said, “Get your trousers back on, Jack, and help me find my shoes. We have a murderer to catch.”


End file.
